Beamed Up
by Sparky Dorian
Summary: Random White Collar/Star Trek: 2009 crossover. Largely Neal-centric. Just for fun!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey peoples! So, remember that writing binge I promised? It's been happening. I just don't like posting fics till they're done. I have one that's very intense and long and almost done. It'll be started as soon as I finish posting this one. This one requires a bit of an explanation. I had a conversation with my (awesome!) friend Shelby and I were speculating on whether or not Kirk and Neal would get along. This is what resulted. It isn't meant to be taken seriously at all, it's just for a laugh and to get those two characters together. Also, it's posted _here_ because it is largely Neal-centric. So. Flame if you want, or just read and enjoy. :)

The first thing Neal was aware of was was a strange silence. Like someone had shoved earplugs in his ears without him noticing. The second was that the ground he was laying on was _very _uncomfortable.

He opened his eyes and blinked, then blinked again in the dim light. This wasn't June's apartment. Nor was it the FBI offices, and those were the only two places he'd been that day. So where was he? Feeling his pockets to make sure he hadn't been muggedor something, Neal stood up and promptly banged his head on a low-hanging metal bar.

"Ouch!" The sound of his head hitting the bar and his voice echoed eerily through the large room he'd found himself in. It was a very odd room, full of very odd things. He looked around and picked a few up, but nothing looked at all familiar.

"Hm..." Neal walked toward what appeared to be a door without a handle. Maybe he'd been kidnapped? This could be some sort of bizarre abandoned warehouse. He leaned against the wall next to the door, preparing to have to pick the lock when it inexplicably opened of its own accord.

That was strange. He wouldn't have thought a warehouse would have automatic doors.

Light flooded through the open doors, sort of blinding after the dim room. Neal frowned at the strange architecture surrounding him. All smooth silver and flat carpeting and flashing blue lights. It was vaguely familiar in a way he couldn't yet place.

With great curiosity, Neal stepped forward. No alarms were triggered. _Yet_. The ex-con was silent as he walked down a quiet, curving hallway. No one appeared to be present besides himself. He saw plenty of closed doors but didn't really feel good about exploring them.

Suddenly, the calm blue lights started to flash red, and loud alarm bells sounded. _Intruder alert_ was the first thing that flashed to Neal's mind as he pressed a button next to the nearest door to hide inside. Instead of a room, like he expected, it led to another corridor with the same flashing red lights. He heard footsteps outside the door he'd just come through and started to run again, looking for a door. He opened the first one he saw and darted inside. It closed behind him. _Oops_. He was in some sort of futuristic elevator. That in itself wasn't the problem.

The problem was the four red-clad men that were in the elevator with him. They were tall, intimidating, and looked less than pleased as they pulled out weapons and pointed them at him. With a quick, charming smile, he raised his hands in front of him. His eyes settled on the emblems their uniforms bore and with a flash he realized where he'd seen the corridor styles before.

_Well this is weird. _He started to look around the lift. Was he dealing with some sort of _fanatic club_ or was it a dream?

"Don't move," one man said threateningly.

"Okay," Neal said, holding still obligingly. Best to make them think he was no trouble. Then they'd let their guard down.

The lift started to move upward and Neal gave the first guard a questioning look.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he said. "You know perfectly well where you are." Neal resisted the urge to roll his eyes. These tough guy types were all the same.

The lift stopped and the men filed out carefully, with one on either side of him. Neal mentally cursed. They knew what they were doing. Well, there was always the distraction technique.

He waited until they were half-way down the hall before he tried it. He glanced boredly at the ceiling and stopped, affecting a horrified expression.

"What _is_ that thing?" He asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice. It worked. All four men looked up, pointing their weapons (_phasers?_) at the ceiling instead. He slipped under the arms of two of them and was around the corner before they could fire.

"Stop right now!" The bearded one commanded. Yeah, like that line ever worked. Neal ducked into the first door he saw and continued through a maze of doors until he was sure he'd lost them.

Unfortunately, he also lost himself. Neal walked more slowly through an abandoned hallway, trying to block out the continuing alarms as he attempted to discover which way was out.

"There he is!" A new team of security guards came through a door. Apparently these ones weren't taking any chances; they fired at him with a stream of red light before he got more than a few feet away. Energy stung his right side and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

xxxxx

"So," a young voice drawled. "You're the one that's been causing all the _trouble_." Neal sat up slowly, wincing. He found himself unhappily contained in a small cell, seated on a cot.

"It was unintentional," Neal said quickly, examining his captor. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with dark blonde hair and flashing, amused blue-green eyes.

"That's what they all say," the man said. He was dressed in a yellow shirt and black slacks, his shirt bearing the same emblems as the guards'. "I don't know where you came from, but if you were trying to blend in, your fashion information was a _little_ out of date." Neal glanced down at his black suit and back up.

"It's a classic," he said defensively.

"Sure." The man raised an eyebrow. "So what's your name?"

"What's _yours_?" Neal countered. The man looked genuinely surprised at the return question.

"Kirk. James T. Kirk." The man shrugged. "I'd've thought you'd have known that, having gone through the trouble to get aboard and all."

Neal gave the man a skeptical look. "James T. Kirk. Really?"

"Last time I checked," he said with a grin. "_Captain_ Kirk, as of recently. Really, you didn't already know this?" _Kirk_ eyed him curiously. Neal mentally slapped his forehead. This was either his strangest dream _ever_, or a very enthusiastic bunch of fans.

When he didn't respond immediately, Kirk raised his eyebrows. "So. I told you _my_ name. Your turn. Who are you and why are you on my ship?"

"Neal Caffrey," Neal said. "And I didn't even know I was _on _a ship."

Kirk shrugged. "If you don't want to tell me..."

"I mean it," Neal insisted. "I don't even remember getting here. Last I recall, I was in New York."

"New York." Kirk gave him a strange look. "Well, I think you're either a very bad liar, or very confused."

Neal crossed his arms and regarded the man. "It's neither."

"If you say so," Kirk said with a shrug. "I'll be back later, Mr. Caffrey. I'd suggest you try to rethink your story."

"It's not a _story_," Neal called after the _Captain_ as he left. He sat back down on the cot briefly. "I'm not the one stuck in a permanent roleplay," he muttered. He stood back up and moved toward the bars, intending to stick his hand through to examine the lock, but as it connected with the air between the bars a red _force field_ (for lack of a better term) appeared, zapping it back painfully.

Holding the stinging hand to his chest, Neal sat down on the cot with a sulky expression.

Just what he needed. Crazed fans with _technology_.

xxxxx

"Captain," Spock greeted Kirk as he returned to the bridge. "You have met with the intruder?"

"Yep," Kirk said, taking a seat in his chair and swiveling to face his first officer. Spock arched one eyebrow. Kirk knew he was curious, but it wasn't in his nature to ask for more information.

He grinned to himself, deciding not to make the Vulcan wait... _this_ time. "He's wearing a suit from over two centuries ago and he claims to be be from New York." Kirk shrugged with a disbelieving snort. "And that he has no idea how he got onto the ship."

"I see," Spock said with a slight incline to his head.

"What do _you _think?" Kirk inquired.

"I do not yet have enough information to form a logical conclusion," Spock said after a pause.

"But you don't believe him," Kirk stated.

"The probability that his claims are valid is very low," Spock conceded.

"So... what's he _really_ doing here?" Kirk wondered to himself as he spun back to face the view screen.

Spock remained silent, recognizing the rhetorical question.

They'd just have to wait and see, Kirk supposed. He grinned slightly. At least he wouldn't be bored anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal fiddled with a pen from his pocket, clicking it over and over as he gazed thoughtfully into space. If Peter was here, he knew the noise combined with Neal's "_planning something_"look would drive the FBI agent crazy.

He would be more than glad to have the agent's mocking comments at the moment. Any comments, really. Isolation had never been good for him. He didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. Less than a day, definitely, but it _felt_ like a long time.

The doors outside his cell slid open and Kirk walked in, carrying a tray of food.

"Good morning, Mr. Caffrey," the man said cheerfully. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Neal lied guardedly. He'd slept barely at all, really. But communicating weakness to your opponents was generally a bad idea.

"No, you didn't," Kirk said, his upbeat air still intact. "I've spent more than one night on cots like those. No one sleeps well on them. Unless they're drunk, that is." Neal smiled slightly against his will, then rebuked himself. Whatever was going on here, he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

Kirk pulled a chair up to the outside of the bars and set the tray on the floor momentarily, regarding Neal curiously.

"My security officers said you were unarmed when they caught you."

"I'm not really a gun guy," Neal said with a shrug.

"Mhm." Kirk raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So you came aboard a vessel, knowing you'd likely encounter trouble, without _any_ means of defending yourself?"

"I didn't intentionally _come aboard_," Neal said, unable to prevent a hint of frustration from entering his tone.

"So you've said," Kirk said with a half smile. "And I still don't believe you. Still, we'll agree to disagree for the moment. You hungry?"

Neal began to shake his head, but his stomach growled traitorously. Kirk's smile widened.

"I don't know if you're another species or something," Kirk said, picking up the tray, "but I'm assuming sandwiches will be acceptable. My chief engineer modified the replicator to make some pretty good ones." He lifted a plate from the tray and slid it under the cell door through a hole in the again-invisible force field.

"Thanks," Neal said, picking up the plate slowly. He put it on his lap, sitting back on the cot, but didn't eat.

Kirk, on the other hand, took a large bite of his sandwich. "Mmm. I'm starved." He glanced at Neal and swallowed. "It's not _poisoned_ or anything. I don't have any reason to kill you."

Neal gave him a skeptical look. "Uh huh."

"It's true," Kirk said with a grin. "I need to know what you're doing here. And in any case, I'm not all that into killing people."

"I can respect that," Neal said, hesitantly taking a bite. The flavors were balanced very well, each vibrant and individual yet perfectly blended. "Mm."

"Yeah," Kirk said. "Scotty knows his sandwiches."

_Scotty. Kirk. _So obviously they were Original Series fans. Just how many of them _were _there? Neal wondered as he chewed the sandwich.

"So where exactly _did_ you get your information on earth from?" Kirk asked. "Your _classic_ suit is very out-of-date. And no one's used pens like that-" he nodded at the writing utensil, "for a very _long_ time."

"I got my information from _living _here," Neal said. "It's only 2010, the suit isn't _that_ old."

"Here?" Kirk shook his head, not even trying to address the name thing. "Caffrey, you are one seriously confused individual. We're not _on_ Earth, as you very well know."

"Yes, we are," Neal insisted frustratedly, giving up on the appeasing approach. "There's no such thing as Starfleet or _space travel_. Really, man, you're taking it a bit far here."

"What are you talking about?" Kirk got that surprised, puzzled expression again. "Taking _what_ a bit far?"

"Fine, stay in character," Neal said, rolling his eyes. He set the plate down next to him as he finished the sandwich. "But I'm done playing along." Kirk stood up exasperatedly, pushing the chair back against the wall again.

"I'll be back, okay? You just... stay there." Kirk left the room, muttering something to himself.

"Yeah, because I was really planning on _not _doing that."

xxxxx

"He's crazy," Kirk told Spock as he went back onto the bridge. "Absolutely, _completely_ insane."

"Captain?" Spock raised his eyebrows.

"Caffrey- the prisoner. Now he's saying he's from 2010- he seems to think it _is _2010. And that we're on Earth," Kirk ranted. "It's like he thinks this is all some sort of game or something. He referred to me as being _in character_."

"That is most puzzling," Spock agreed. "However, as you said, he could simply be mentally unstable."

Kirk was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "When actually I think about it, he doesn't _really_ give off the 'crazy' vibe."

"It is possible that he is merely _deluded_," Spock suggested.

"Yeah, or still lying." Kirk shrugged. Then he gave Spock a look. "_You_ could always talk to him."

"I?" Spock tilted his head slightly to one side. "For what purpose?"

"I don't know, don't you have some sort of built in lie detector?"

"Hardly, Captain," Spock said with a barely discernible trace of amusement. It had taken a while for Kirk to be able to recognize Spock's subtle shows of emotion. "However, if it is your wish that I speak to the prisoner, I will of course oblige."

"Maybe," Kirk said with another shrug. "We'll see."

"Might I remind you, Captain, that we do have a _lie detector,_ as you have put it, on board."

"We do?" Kirk frowned, thinking. "Oh, right. Well, I'll try that then. Thanks, Spock," he said brightly.

"You are most welcome, Captain."

Whistling under his breath and in a considerably less agitated mood, Kirk went to retrieve something before going back to the brig.

"Time to find out if your story is true," he told Caffrey as he walked back into the brig, holding several small devices and flanked by a couple of security guards. He watched the man's expression waver and body tense as he saw what Kirk had brought.

"Relax," Kirk said, realizing what Caffrey was thinking. "I'm not here to hurt you, or anything. This will just detect changes in heart rate and pulse."

"A lie detector?" Caffrey asked drily, looking slightly relieved after Kirk's assurances.

"Exactly," Kirk said with an appreciative nod. "Very helpful." He nodded to the security guards and they deactivated the cell's force fields.

"The guards are just a precaution," Kirk told Caffrey. The man allowed the guards to remove him from his cell and he sat down in a chair in the middle of the room. Kirk inclined his head to the guards and they returned to stand by the doors. Kirk squinted at the equipment and figured out how to correctly assemble it for use.

Once all was ready, he stood in front of Caffrey and started to question him. "What's your name?"

"Neal Caffrey." Truth.

"Where are you from?"

"New York." Another truth.

"Mhm." Kirk raised one eyebrow. "Why did you come here?"

"I didn't _come _here," Caffrey said. "I have no idea how I got here." And another truth.

"Do you have any intention of harming my ship or my crew?" Kirk asked. Caffrey shook his head.

"None." That was a comfort, anyway. Kirk asked him a few more basic questions and found no lies.

"So what's the anklet for?" Kirk asked curiously, eyeing it. Caffrey frowned slightly as he looked down.

"I..." his cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly. "I was in prison. I consult for the FBI on a work-release program. It's a tracking anklet for precaution." No lies there. Kirk nodded, feeling genuine interest. And confusion.

"Well, now we know you aren't lying," Kirk said, removing the devices from the man's arm. "There's still always the _deluded_ theory, though."

"I'm not deluded," Caffrey said flatly. "I'd say that _you _are." Kirk shook his head slightly, giving the man a puzzled expression.

"If you say so." Kirk shrugged. No use arguing with a possibly crazy person. "Well, since you seem harmless enough, I suppose we can find you some more comfortable quarters."

"That would be... nice," Caffrey admitted. Kirk grinned.

"I thought so." He watched Caffrey stand and he gave him a stern look.

"No more escape stunts. There is no way off this ship that we won't stop you from using. And then I'd have to keep you in the brig. You don't want _that_."

"Alright," Caffrey agreed with a charming grin. Still less than reassured, Kirk nodded to the security guards who tailed him and Caffrey to an empty guest quarters. Kirk opened the door and he and Caffrey stepped inside.

"Nice," Caffrey commented as he looked around. "Strange, but nice."

"Yeah." Kirk nodded to Caffrey. "I'm going to post a guard outside your door for now, just in case," he informed him. "Just keep it in mind." Caffrey looked discouraged for a split second before grinning.

"I will. Like you said, there's no way off _the_ _ship_." Kirk was treated to another smile, one that said _you can trust me_. With a half-wave he left the rooms, rolling his eyes slightly.

xxxxx

Neal sat down on the bed in the corner, bouncing slightly. It was infinitely more comfortable than the cot in the brig had been. These fans were certainly dedicated, he noted. Everything was exactly how he remembered seeing it while watching the Original Series and the newer movie with Moz.

Removing his jacket and hanging on the back of a chair, then slipping off his shoes, Neal stood up and started poking around. There were a few black "civilian" uniforms in the drawer but not much else. He glanced at the wall and saw something that looked familiar; the food replicator.

_Very authentic_, he observed as he pressed several buttons. A menu even came up, and Neal grinned as he punched in some foods. To his surprise, a humming sound began and a plate of pasta and a glass of juice appeared on the pad in a shimmering flash of light. Neal took a step back then touched it, frowning. How had they managed that? He was sure there was an explanation, he just couldn't think of it yet.

"Mmm." He took a bite of the food, sitting down at the table. It certainly _tasted_ like real food. Discrepancies started to pop into Neal's mind as he habitually analyzed his situation. _How did they get actual, functional _phasers_? And the force field? _He honestly didn't know. But this just kept getting stranger and stranger.

After he finished the food, he slipped his shoes back on and pressed the button to open the door to his room. True to his word, Kirk had posted a guard outside. Neal gave the man a grin.

"Just checking." He closed the door, curious in spite of himself. How could he get Kirk to show him around more of the so-called ship?

_A/N: Big thanks to Logan'sDrover and heartfallen for their reviews. They are appreciated! _


	3. Chapter 3

Neal was _very_ bored. Kirk still hadn't come back and there were only so many times one could explore a small room before it got old.

Voices came from outside the door and Neal sat up straighter, waiting.

"I told you, Captain Kirk _told_ _me_ to go in there!" An angry voice declared.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he'll have to confirm those orders himself."

"Fine." There was more talking that Neal couldn't quite make out, then, "Are you _satisfied _now, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Doctor," the guard's voice said, sounding surly. The doors slid open and a man walked in. He rolled his eyes slightly as they closed behind him then examined Neal, who was now standing slightly warily.

"You _look_ human."

"I _am_ human," Neal said.

"So I've heard," the man said in a dry voice that held a hint of southern drawl. "But I don't believe everything I hear."

"Suit yourself," Neal said with a shrug. He extended his hand. "Neal Caffrey."

"I know," the man replied shortly, shaking the hand. "McCoy. Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"Nice to meet you, Doctor," Neal said.

McCoy made a noncommittal sound as he set a case on the small table and opened it up. "I should've done this right when you were captured-" Neal scowled slightly at the word. "But I was busy. So, if you wouldn't mind?" The man's voice was brisk as he picked out a small gray instrument and looked at Neal.

"What?" Neal wasn't entirely sure what the Doctor wanted him to do. And all these mysterious tools they seemed to have around made him very uncomfortable.

"Sit _down_," the Doctor said with a bit more patience than before. Neal hoped his worry wasn't showing on his face, but given the sudden attitude change from McCoy he decided it probably was. "I'm just going to scan you. See if you are who you say you are."

"Oh." Neal didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just sat in the chair McCoy pulled away from the table into the middle of the room. McCoy moved over with a small screen in one hand and the gray device in the other.

"I _should _be doing this in sickbay," McCoy muttered, mostly to himself. "But this will have to do." Neal sat silently, trying not to fidget as he was scanned by the Doctor.

"Hm." Neal twisted to see McCoy's thoughtful expression. "I'll need to get a blood sample," the man said to Neal as he saw him watching.

"Alright," Neal said slowly. He knew he didn't really have a choice either way, and agreeing voluntarily would be much less painful (and less humiliating) than having one of the security details _make_ him comply. A large part of his mind hoped the would-be McCoy had some _actual_ medical training.

"Roll up your sleeve," McCoy said shortly as he picked up another shiny medical tool. Neal did so and held out his arm. It was surprisingly less painful than traditional needles were. After a few moments of quiet from the Doctor, Neal heard him speak.

"McCoy to Kirk," he said.

_"Kirk here." _The Captain's harassed-sounding voice _seemed_ to be coming from the small box McCoy was holding.

"If you're not too _busy,_ I'd suggest you come down here." He didn't specify where _here_ was, but Kirk seemed to understand.

_"I'll be there in a minute, Bones. Kirk out." _Neal watched McCoy close the communicator and gave the man a curious glance.

McCoy noticed the look after a moment and lifted an eyebrow.

"Good news for you, you're not lying," the Doctor said, putting his medical tools away.

"I knew _that_," Neal muttered. McCoy rolled his eyes.

"Fine, good news for you, now _we _know you're not lying."

Kirk took a bit more than _a minute _to arrive, and when he did he was slightly out of breath.

"What were _you_ doing?" McCoy asked.

"Nothing important," Kirk said with a slight shrug. "Now, what did you find out?"

"It appears that everything he's told about himself is true," McCoy said, crossing his arms at Kirk's non-answer.

"Even-" Kirk stepped closer to McCoy and lowered his voice slightly, but Neal could still hear him. "Even the _time_ thing?"

"From the tests I ran, yes," McCoy replied. "Now, if you'll _excuse_ me," he said sarcastically, "I have other things to do."

"Aw, Bones," Kirk said with a teasing grin. "It's lunch time. You're not going to work through _lunch time_, are you?"

"Yes," McCoy said with a brief nod, picking up his case. "I'm going to eat in sickbay. I have work to do."

"Fine," Kirk shrugged slightly. "You go do your important _doctor-things_." McCoy rolled his eyes with a slightly amused look and left Neal's current room.

"He can be so _boring _sometimes," Kirk told Neal conspiratorially. Neal once again felt the urge to laugh at Kirk's comments, and this time he did. Kirk looked Neal up and down.

"I'm not even going to try to guess how you got here," Kirk said, shaking his head with a puzzled expression. "Maybe Spock would have a better _hypothesis_. However, for now, would _you_ come eat lunch with me?" Kirk's expression vaguely resembled a puppy-dog and Neal laughed again.

"Sure. I'd like to see more of the ship," Neal said with a smile.

"I'm sure that could be arranged," Kirk said with a raised eyebrow. He grinned. "Now that we know you're not here to commandeer it, or anything like that." Neal stood up, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"Didn't you know that already, after the lie detector?"

"_Technically_, yes," Kirk said, shrugging. "But it never hurts to have Bones and his medical expertise confirm something."

"That makes sense." Neal put his suit jacket back on and followed Kirk out the door.

xxxxx

"Okay," Kirk said with a grin. "We'll start on the bridge, since that's the most important part of the ship. Well-" he paused. "Scotty would tell you it's engineering, but we'll start on the bridge anyway."

"Okay," Caffrey said. "Who else is on the bridge?"

"Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Spock," Kirk ticked them off his fingers. "_Maybe_ a few other people."'

"Will they _mind_?" Caffrey inquired.

"Hm." Kirk thought for a moment as they entered the lift. "Sulu and Chekov? Nah. Uhura, maybe... Spock?" Kirk grinned. "Definitely. But I _am_ the captain, so I think we'll be okay."

"Right." Caffrey's grin held a hint of anticipation. They exited the lift onto the bridge. Kirk looked immediately at Spock, trying to predict _exactly_ which raised-eyebrow-look he'd get. And... he was right! It hadn't been a hard guess, though, so he supposed he couldn't feel _too_ triumphant.

"So, Mr. Caffrey, this is the bridge," he said, gesturing around. Caffrey looked around, nodding slightly. "And that's Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura." He pointed to each as he introduced them.

Sulu nodded and Chekov gave a puzzled smile. Uhura rolled her eyes with a slightly amused smile and turned back to her station. "And that's my first officer, Commander Spock." He turned his head to Caffrey and added quietly, "Don't worry about the disapproving frown, that's generally his normal expression around me." He saw Caffrey restrain a grin and felt rather pleased with himself.

"Keptain." Chekov tilted his head politely. "May I ask who zis is?"

"Certainly, Mr. Chekov," Kirk said with a grin. "This is Neal Caffrey, he's going to be our guest for a while."

"Oh. Zen, it is nice to meet you, Mr. Caffrey," the young ensign said with a brief nod. Caffrey nodded with a friendly grin.

"Likewise, Mr. Chekov," he said. Kirk walked over to the center of the bridge and Caffrey followed him.

"This is my chair," Kirk said with a smile that was only _slightly_ smug. "That's the viewscreen and the helm."

"Nice," Caffrey said. Kirk glanced around and saw Spock observing him with a look that clearly said, _A word, Captain?_

"Ensign Chekov," Kirk said, giving Spock a slight nod.

"Yes, Keptain?"

"Take Mr. Caffrey down to those viewing windows on deck six."

"Yes, sir," Chekov said with his typical enthusiasm. Caffrey gave Kirk a curious look but Kirk just shrugged.

Caffrey followed Chekov off of the bridge and Kirk walked over to Spock's station.

"Yes?" Kirk asked.

"Captain," Spock said slowly, "are you certain that it is wise to be spending time conducting _tours_ of the ship for someone we still know very little about?"

"No," Kirk said with a grin. "I'm not certain it's _wise_. But I don't think it's _unwise_ either. And it's fun."

Spock quirked one eyebrow slightly. "If you say so, Captain."

_A/N: Aw, only one chapter left after this. It wasn't all that long, just a short fun story. Well, thanks, guys for your reviews! Including Anna, who I can't thank individually. *sigh* I figured out the crossover thing, but at this point I'll just leave it here. So, yep... Good stuff. _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So. I somehow forgot how to count, there's still one more left after this. There's more Spock and Kirk in the next one, don't worry. Well, more Spock at least. *grin* Thanks for all your reviews! And with Chekov's accent, I just sort of put sporadically what I hear the most emphasis on in my head. Yep. Enjoy._

Neal listened to Chekov chatter happily the whole way to _deck six. _He talked about a lot of things; how happy he was to be on the Enterprise, how Hikaru was giving him fencing lessons. And about _the Keptain_, whom Chekov obviously trusted and admired a great deal. Neal got the impression that the young Ensign didn't often have occasion to just talk to someone.

"Ken I ask you a question, Neal?" Chekov asked in a pause. Neal had informed him right away that this was what he preferred to be called, and the Ensign had agreed only a little hesitantly.

"Sure, Chekov."

"Why do you wear such old-fashioned clothing?" Chekov asked curiously. Neal shrugged.

"The same reason you wear a Starfleet uniform," he said with a grin. "It's what I'm used to."

"Zat makes sense," Chekov said, nodding. "Okay, we are here." He stood close to the large window and looked out at the stars with a contented sigh. "Zey are beautiful."

"Yes, they are," Neal agreed, watching them speed by wonderingly.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a familiar beeping sound came from Chekov's communicator.

"Chekov here," he said, answering it.

_"It's Kirk." _

"Oh, hello Keptain. Ken I do something else for you?"

_"If you wouldn't mind bringing Mr. Caffrey up to my quarters."_

"Not at all, Keptain. We'll be there in a few minutes."

_"Thank you, Chekov. Kirk out." _Chekov closed the communicator and put it away.

"Ze Keptain's quarters are back closer to ze bridge," he said to Neal.

"Okay. Thank you for showing me around a bit," Neal said with a smile.

"Oh, eet was no trouble," Chekov said, his cheeks reddening slightly as he shrugged. Neal smiled at the back of the ensign's head as they walked back the way they'd come toward the lift. Chekov didn't have as much to say on the way back, just a few side comments about things or people they'd passed. It was all positive; the Ensign seemed to have a very bright outlook.

They stopped outside a door and Chekov hesitated. "Thank you for coming. And... for listening." He looked mildly embarrassed.

Neal gave a very genuine smile and shook Chekov's hand, clapping the Ensign's other arm with his free hand. "It was my pleasure, Chekov." The boy gave a bright grin and walked away, presumably back to the bridge. Neal couldn't figure out if there was some sort of doorbell to Kirk's door, so he just knocked. There was some sort of repeated thudding noise from inside.

"Come in," Kirk's voice said. Neal pressed the button and stepped inside. The source of the noise was revealed; Kirk was throwing a tennis ball against the wall repeatedly.

"...Captain," Neal greeted.

"Mr. Caffrey," Kirk said with a nod, now holding the tennis ball in one hand but not throwing it again.

"Did you _want_ something?" Neal asked when Kirk remained silent.

"Sort of." Kirk swiveled in his chair to face Neal. "We've been assigned to travel to a nearby M-Class planet on a negotiatory/diplomatic mission. Starfleet thinks it'll be more efficient that way, since we have a great diplomat on board and they won't have to send a separate ship."

Neal tilted his head slightly with an _and?_ look.

"But, she needs someone to practice with. Someone who can play roles. Would you be interested?"

Neal thought for a moment. "I suppose so." He shrugged. "Sure. It could be fun."

"Thanks," Kirk said brightly. "I was hoping you'd say yes, since I can't technically _order_ you to." Neal laughed slightly.

"I'm glad I did, then." He stood up. "Was that all?"

"Yes, you may go. I'll meet you at the door of your quarters at 0800 tomorrow."

"Okay." Neal walked toward out the door and down the hall, wondering what this _diplomat_ would be like. As he walked away from the Captain's quarters, he heard the tennis ball start hitting the wall again.

xxxxx

Neal spent the majority of the day wandering around and talking to random people, then he went to bed when he saw corridors emptying out. From everything he'd seen, they really did _appear_ to be in space.

So that took the idea of a crazed fanclub out of play. And there was the matter of everyone looking, speaking, and acting _exactly_ like who they were named for. And the functioning technology. So it was probably a dream. Or...

He stared up at the blank ceiling of his "quarters" and sighed, rubbing the side of his head. He wasn't going to even _try _to think about what it meant if this _wasn't _a dream. Rolling onto one side and closing his eyes, he sighed. It was certainly a _strange_ dream.

The next morning, he'd showered in the small restroom and donned one of the black uniforms. He didn't like to wear the same clothing twice in a row, and since no more suits were available (obviously), he had to make do.

A tone sounded at the door and Neal opened it. "Good morning, Captain," he said. Kirk was standing there looking bright as usual.

"Morning, Caffrey. Ready to go?"

"Yes." Neal followed Kirk through several corridors and down a lift.

"Spock and Scotty were talking," Kirk said. "They still haven't come up with an explanation of how you got here."

"But they will," Neal said, half-questioning. Kirk shrugged.

"Oh, of course they will. If they can work together for that long. They're rather... opposite, personality wise." The young captain grinned.

"I got that impression," Neal said. He and Kirk left the lift and Kirk pressed a button next to a door.

_"Come in_," a lilting, feminine voice said. Kirk opened it and Neal followed him inside.

"Good morning, Captain," a woman said. She came into the light. Her hair was long and brown, and her eyes were a sparkling green. He guessed she was in her late twenties. "And this must be the infamous Neal Caffrey."

"Guilty as charged," Neal said with a joking shrug.

"I appreciate you agreeing to help me," she said. He tried to decipher where her slight accent was from, but couldn't place it.

"My pleasure," Neal replied. Kirk slapped Neal's shoulder jokingly and grinned.

"I think you can take it from here. Have fun, kids." Kirk left the room and they both laughed slightly. Neal thought she had a nice laugh.

"Well, you know my name, but I don't know yours," Neal said.

"It's Nicole. Nicole Williams."

"It's nice to meet you, Nicole," Neal said. "So what did you need me to do, exactly?"

"Well..." Nicole showed him the situations she was doing, practicing all her skills of diplomacy. He helped her read through them and have someone to argue with. At one point he decided to ad lib something, and she threw back her head and laughed.

He tried to make her laugh several more times that day.

Eventually Nicole thought to check the time and let out a low whistle. "Wow. It's almost 2000 hours." Neal's eyebrows rose but he grinned.

"Wow," he agreed. "That's a long time." Wow, he just sounded intelligent, didn't he? But she smiled back. Neal couldn't remember feeling this at ease with a woman since the early days with Kate...

"Well, we missed lunch. Would you..." he saw her cheeks flush slightly pink. "Would you like to come to dinner with me?"

He offered her his hand to help her up. "I'd love to."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Aw, so this is it. I appreciate all your nice reviews and I hope you enjoyed this. I'd love con crit on the ending._

Over the next week or so, Neal fell into a fairly fixed routine. Eat breakfast with Chekov, who was one of the only other morning people on the ship; talk with Kirk on the bridge for a while; have lunch; then, probably his favorite part, alternately helping and just talking to Nicole. She was cheerful, intelligent, and funny. He enjoyed being around her and they almost always ended up eating dinner together.

One night he was walking her home after a particularly late dinner, when she asked him a question he wasn't expecting.

"How long are you going to stay?" Her eyes were bright and sincere, and he didn't know exactly how to answer. Why would a figment of his own imagination ask him how long he was going to be able to stay for?

He decided a psychologist would probably have a field day with this dream and all its meanings. But for now he didn't care about that. He just shrugged with a small smile.

"As long as I can," he said sincerely. It had been about a week and a half since he'd _arrived_, and it was definitely the longest-feeling dream he'd ever had. The runner-up wasn't even close, a mental vision of a two-day heist.

"I hope it's a long time, then," Nicole said quietly, and then they were at her quarters. They paused for a moment outside her door in the silent silver corridor, and she started to say good night. On an impulse, he leaned down and kissed her. She looked surprised then pleased as she broke away, smiling and opening her door.

"Good night," she said happily.

"Good night, Nicole." Neal watched the door close behind her with a rush of happiness he hadn't felt for a long time. He let out a quiet sigh and started back down the corridor with a serene smile on his face. This was a strange dream, yes, but probably also the best he'd ever had.

xxxxx

Neal woke up very early the next morning. He didn't think even Chekov would be awake so early, but went to their normal meeting place nonetheless. To his surprise, the seventeen-year-old Russian was sitting with his back leaned against the wall, a PADD in his lap.

"You're here early," Neal said, sinking down beside him. Chekov jumped then grinned.

"So are you," he returned with a small smile.

"Were you just waiting?" Neal asked.

"No," Chekov said, switching off his PADD and shrugging. "Zis is where I come to think. It is usually quiet."

"It's a nice spot," Neal agreed, smiling. "So, are you hungry this early in the mornings?"

"Today I am," Chekov said, nodding. "Ken we go now, zen?"

"Sure." Neal stood up and grabbed Chekov's hand, pulling him up. PADD tucked under his arm, the Ensign walked with Neal to the mess hall, his chatter quieter than usual out of courtesy for most of the still-sleeping crew.

"You look happy today," Chekov observed as they sat down in the mess hall. "Is zere any particular reason?"

Neal shrugged, grinning. "It's just nice here, that's all."

"It is," Chekov agreed happily, digging into his cereal and fruit. Neal started eating his pancakes more slowly.

"Oh, Neal, I wanted to ask you," Chekov started in between bites. "I have to go to engineering zis morning, to help Mr. Scott. Would you like to come?"

"Sure," Neal said with a shrug. "Just tell me when."

"I will," Chekov promised, looking pleased.

Neal went to the bridge afterward, but no one was there except the tired-looking redshirt who'd had the night shift. Chekov had said he'd be to the bridge soon, so Neal figured he'd just wait. He started looking around and ended up at the science station. He moved a dial.

"Please refrain from touching that," a voice said from behind him. Neal jumped guiltily. Spock regarded him with faint irritation.

"Good morning, Commander Spock." Neal smiled.

"I would prefer that you not modify these settings," Spock said.

"Sorry," Neal said. "I didn't know that this area was off-limits."

"Indeed." Spock lifted one eyebrow. "Now you have been informed."

"I have," Neal agreed, nodding. "And I will be careful not to ... modify anything." He looked at all the equipment. "You really know how to work all this?"

"I do," Spock said. Had he been human he would have added an _of course_ there. "It is my responsibility."

"That's interesting," Neal said with a grin. Spock didn't react. Neal rolled his eyes mentally. Fine.

"Sorry to have bothered you," Neal said, beaming.

"Your apology is unnecessary," Spock said flatly. Neal felt frustrated. Really? Nothing at all? But Spock just continued to look at him with a mildly reproving expression. Neal was good at remaining calm while being stared down, but Spock was a professional.

"Okay. Well. I'll just be going now." Neal sort of scooted away and sat down in a chair on the other end of the bridge, quietly not doing anything. Unbeknownst to him, Spock raised both eyebrows and turned back to his console, slightly... _intrigued _(he'd never say _amused_) by Neal's Nealness.

Neal was on the bridge with Kirk a few hours later when Chekov tapped him on the shoulder, looking excited.

"I am going to engineering now," the Ensign said.

"Alright, I'm coming," Neal said. He gave Kirk a mock-salute and followed Chekov down.

They walked into engineering and Chekov walked over to Scotty, who was leaning against a column and sleeping.

"Mr. Scott?" Chekov said, tapping Scotty's shoulder. Scotty slipped to the side slightly as he awoke, cursing.

"Laddie, don't do tha'," he said, blinking himself out of grogginess.

"I'm sorry," Chekov said, looking repentant. "I just needed you to show me what you wanted me to do."

"Okay, fine," Scotty said, standing up. "Follow me. Morning, Caffrey." Neal gave a slight nod. He and the Scotsman were on friendly terms, but not well-acquainted. Neal drifted behind them, looking around. Chekov started working out math calculations Neal could barely _fathom_, and Neal was no novice in math himself.

After a while Neal found himself leaning in a position much like the one Scotty had been in when they found him, and his eyelids started to feel heavy. Chekov's quiet mutter as he fixed the problems. He guessed he must've fallen asleep at some point, because he heard a voice calling his name in the slightly obscured way of half-consciousness.

"_Neal? Neal, wake up._" He opened his eyes slowly and two concerned faces blurred into view above him, but they were not the ones he was expecting. He blinked, then blinked again.

"Pe...ter? Elizabeth?" He pushed himself up slightly and looked around; he was in a small hospital room.

"Yeah," Peter said, nodding. "It's us. June was by a little earlier."

"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"I- fine," Neal said, confused. "Why?"

"You don't remember?" Peter asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Remember _what_?" Neal sat the rest of the way up and blinked.

"You got hit by a car." Peter let out a breath. "I should've been more careful."

"Peter, it's not your fault," Elizabeth said soothingly, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "You couldn't have known it would happen."

"I don't _feel_ like I got hit by a car," Neal protested.

"Yeah, well, they've got you on drugs right now. But your injuries weren't too severe in the first place. A mild concussion and some ugly bruises."

Neal nodded slowly. "So how long was I out, then? A week?" He guessed. Peter looked at him strangely.

"A few hours, actually, and they're letting you out tonight," Peter said. "Why would you guess so high?"

"No reason," Neal said, shrugging. They chatted for a few more minutes, then Peter went in search of some coffee and Elizabeth went to use the restroom. Neal leaned his head back against the wall behind him, letting out a sigh.

He grinned slightly. That had been the strangest, most detailed dream he'd ever had. And how could it have felt so long when it had taken place in such a short amount of time? He could come up with no real explanation.

_Oh, well._ It had been a lot of fun, and he'd probably needed the _vacation_.

He'd just blame it on the drugs.


End file.
